Virtually Yours: A Virtual Match Anthology

by Kait Nolan

  “Emily?”

  Butterflies kicked up in her stomach the second she heard his voice. And he wasn’t even saying her real name.

  “Hi, Oliver,” she said softly. “Are we…I mean, is this okay?”

  He laughed, a slightly rough sound that went straight down her spine. “I was the one who suggested it. Of course this is okay.”

  “Sorry, I’m just weirdly nervous for some reason.” Caroline realized she was pacing the length of the room, clutching her phone to her ear so hard that her hand was cramping. She grabbed her headset and plugged it in, then curled up in her battered, beloved leather club chair.

  “Would it make you feel better if I said I was nervous too?”

  “Only slightly. How is this so much harder than text messaging?”

  “There’s no way to delete and re-type things when you’re face-to-face. Or voice-to-voice,” he said. “We’re just flying blind the old-fashioned way.”

  “It is nice to hear what you actually sound like,” she said shyly. “It’s been hard to imagine based on your picture.”

  He groaned in response, huffing out a laugh at the end. “I don’t know why I let my best friend put that picture on my profile. Or even take it to begin with. I plead tequila.”

  “Tequila is a harsh mistress. After college, I can’t touch the stuff. But I must say, if that’s a real picture of you, she does good work.”

  She could feel her heart start to race—she was horrible at flirting when she couldn’t see the other person face-to-face. She hated flying blind.

  “Then maybe I should thank her after all.” She could hear the smile in his tone. “I have to say, you sound a lot like what I imagined.”

  “Really? You imagined a squeaky 12-year-old girl voice full of sarcasm?”

  “Well, the sarcasm reads just fine in your texts. But I can assure you that you don’t sound like a 12-year-old. You sound just as cute as I picture you to be.”

  Caroline cleared her throat awkwardly. If there was anything she was worse at than phone flirting, it was taking a compliment. “So what’s a ripped fellow such as yourself doing on a site that hooks you up with a fake girlfriend such as me? I would think that girls would be beating down your door just to get a closer look at those abs.”

  Oliver chuckled. “Yeah, not so much really. Mostly I haven’t had time to date. I work long hours, like I mentioned, and it’s hard to meet the right girl these days. I work mostly with guys, and my best friend is a girl who thinks she’s a great wingman but really just scares other women off. We’re totally platonic, but she doesn’t realize she puts off a vibe that basically says she will give you the shovel talk by beating you with an actual shovel.”

  It was a vivid picture, and Caroline couldn’t help but be amused. “She sounds…protective.”

  “I’ve known her since we were kids, and she has stuck up for me ever since. It’s part of her charm once you get to know her, but it just doesn’t read very well when I’m out on the town trying to meet someone. And my ideal girl isn’t just lurking everywhere.”

  “What about online dating?”

  “I’ve tried it, and that’s when I met the girl I told you about—the one who mocked my comic books. It kind of soured me on all that.”

  “And yet you got talked into Virtual Match?”

  “It was a moment of weakness, I’ll admit it. There’s some pressure at work from guys who don’t seem to get that I’d rather be single than going home with a new girl every night. I made up a girlfriend to get them off my back, and they’re calling my bluff.”

  She cringed. It was surprisingly hard to hear about why he was really talking to her in the first place. “Ouch. That sounds awful. And kind of HR-worthy.”

  “I can handle it, mostly. They’d make my life an even bigger kind of hell if I reported them. It’s bad enough that they think I’m a goody-goody for actually caring about doing a good job.”

  “Makes me feel lucky that my co-workers are all pretty great,” she said. “They’re really supportive of me. It’s nice, especially lately.”

  “Speaking of supportive…are you okay? You said there was family drama going on?”

  Caroline sighed and shifted deeper into the club chair, draping her legs over one overstuffed arm. “Yeah. My mom has some health issues going on, and it’s just the two of us. I’m helping her as much as I can, but today was just a lot to deal with. She’s in the hospital, I’m handling her life and mine…I wouldn’t be anywhere else, but I feel like I’m running on empty.”

  “That sounds pretty rough.” His voice was filled with what sounded like genuine sympathy. “I would do anything to help my mom out too, but when it’s health stuff that’s an extra level of stress. I’m really sorry.”

  “Thank you. It’s just…so frustrating, sometimes, having to be the parent. I barely have a handle on my own life most days, let alone someone else’s.”

  “I bet you’re better at it than you think,” Oliver said. “You’re obviously very caring and good at communicating with people. I mean, you’re by far the best fake girlfriend I’ve ever had.”

  To her horror, Caroline couldn’t stop an actual giggle from coming out of her mouth. “Such a smooth talker, I can’t believe you’re not just raking in the chicks left and right.”

  “Well, I am a one-woman man, even when it’s just for show.”

  “Oh stop, I might swoon!”

  “And me fresh out of smelling salts.”

  Caroline found it surprisingly easy to fall into a comfortable pattern of teasing with him, as if they knew each other better than they actually did. She knew that she was dancing around certain things, same as him, to keep their identities safe. But even just talking a little bit about her crappy day—really, her crappy life right now—helped lighten the burden in a way that confiding in Max or Monica didn’t quite provide.

  “I’m really glad you called me, Emily.”

  She felt her stomach clench at his admission. The things she would do to hear him call her by her real name in that husky-soft voice…

  “I’m really glad I called you, too.”

  ~*~

  Even though Drew got barely any sleep the night before, he still walked toward the Stanleyville Women’s Center with a bounce to his step and a smile on his face. It must have been at least four in the morning when he and Emily hung up the phone, but those three hours of sleep were a worthy sacrifice as far as he was concerned.

  It had been a long time since he felt so connected to a girl, so quickly. It reminded him of the heady days of college when he first met his girlfriend Layla. They were inseparable, usually sleeping over at one of their dorms and going to class and meals together, and they never ran out of things to say. At one point, Drew considered her the one who got away because he thought no one else could possibly make him feel like that. Until Emily.

  If only she was really his.

  He shook his head as if to loosen that thought from his brain entirely. They’d never met, and he didn’t even know her real name. Of course she couldn’t be his girl, no matter how well they knew each other. No matter how much he pictured the face that must surround those soft, shiny lips in her profile picture. No matter how easily she seemed to slot into his daily life.

  The center was bustling with activity, volunteers everywhere helping his mom work on the decorations for the fundraiser and sort donations for the kits that his mom and her staff kept on hand for women looking for jobs—makeup, toiletries, hair styling supplies, even clothes and shoes. She was nowhere to be seen, so he picked his way through the crowd and made for the receptionist desk near the offices. The person manning the desk was crouched down, sorting through boxes, so he cleared his throat gently as not to startle her.

  “Excuse me, do you know where I can find Monica Turnbull?”

  When she straightened up and turned around, all bright pink curls and big brown eyes, Drew was pretty sure his jaw almost hit the floor.

  “Coffee Girl?”
<
br />   She leveled him with a wide-eyed stare. “It’s you!”

  “I know, and it’s you!” He grinned and held up his to-go cup from Java Jones. “Thanks to you, my daily coffee budget has gone up with all the caramel I now add to my lattes.”

  She picked up an identical cup sitting next to a large stack of papers on the desk and toasted him with it before taking a long sip. “Oh, that’s the stuff. Let’s not talk about what I spend on coffee. I try not to think about how I could be debt-free if not for my addiction to the sweet nectar of caffeine.”

  “So, I take it you’re a volunteer here?”

  Coffee Girl shook her head. “I’m an employee, actually. I help the director of the center out with a lot of different stuff…I don’t even remember what my title is anymore, other than ‘Thank God, Caroline.’ That’s usually what she says right before she hands me a broken laptop or a frozen phone.”

  Drew laughed at the nearly pitch-perfect imitation of his mother’s harried voice, something he’d heard a time or fifty in his life. “That sounds like her, all right.”

  Caroline cocked her head at him curiously. “How do you know Monica?”

  “Believe it or not, he’s my son. I told you he existed, Caroline!” Monica chuckled, sailing around the corner to fold him into an embrace. “Sweetheart, you didn’t tell me you were coming by!”

  Drew bussed her cheek with a kiss before slinging an arm around her shoulders to give her a squeeze. “Can’t a guy come by and surprise his favorite girl?”

  “I’m glad you did. I was just trying to remember what your face looked like last night, but it had been so long that I was drawing a blank.”

  They laughed together for a moment before Drew realized that Coffee Girl—sorry, Caroline—was looking on in what appeared to be mild shock.

  “I’m sorry, I should have introduced myself. I’m Drew Turnbull, Monica’s son.” He set down his cup and held out his hand. After a moment of hesitation, she took it firmly.

  “Caroline Grant. Nice to meet you for real this time.”

  “This time?” His mother raised her eyebrow and looked between them, amused.

  “We ran into each other at Java Jones a while back and Caroline helped me improve my order,” Drew said.

  “I didn’t know he was your golden child, though.” Caroline elbowed Monica lightly in the ribs. “I wish you’d told me your son had such crap taste in lattes…I would have set him straight a long time ago.”

  “What brings you by so unexpectedly?” Monica asked her son. “All those weeks of dodging my dinner invites and then you just show up on one of the busiest days we’ve had in months? We must work on your timing.”

  “Well, I was in the neighborhood, and I have that file of all your past releases. It was too big to email, so I thought I’d drop it by. I worked late last night and I couldn’t handle an afternoon in the office.”

  “You look so tired, honey.” His mom smoothed a hand down his cheek in concern. “You can’t work so much that you’re not getting any sleep. I worry about you.”

  He felt the tips of his ears turn a little red. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.”

  Drew looked up to see Caroline’s face splitting in a yawn behind the back of her hand. She caught his eye and shrugged.

  “All this talk of sleep reminded me that I didn’t get much sleep last night either.”

  “I hope my mom hasn’t been working you too hard,” he said. “You should know that she talks about nothing but your greatness.”

  “And here I thought she talked about nothing but her amazing, handsome, busy, important son.” The corner of Caroline’s mouth ticked up. “Today’s just full of surprises.”

  Monica clucked her tongue and checked Caroline with one hip. “I don’t think I can handle both of you ganging up on me at once.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t be here to antagonize you for long,” he said. “Come on, review these files with me and I’ll let you get back to things. Work is waiting for me tonight, anyway.”

  “If we must.” Monica sighed exaggeratedly. “I hate PR. It feels so fake…I just want to do things that help people.”

  “That’s why you have me around, isn’t it?” Drew said. “I do the fake stuff so you can do the helping people part.”

  “Yes, you’re up for sainthood next year, sweetheart. Let’s get this over with if we must, I’ve got a volunteer meeting in twenty minutes.”

  “I can handle things until you’re done, Monica,” Caroline offered. “You guys take your time.”

  “Thanks, Coffee Girl.” Drew flashed her his best smile and was gratified to see her grin in return.

  “No problem. Nice to finally confirm your existence.”

  “The pleasure was all mine.” He watched her turn to go back to her desk, wondering why it felt so familiar and fun to spar with her. It was probably because he’d heard his mom talk about her non-stop for months, how sweet and helpful and smart she was. But in person she was not quite what he expected—kind of a spitfire, really.

  “Hey, Caroline?” The words spilled out of his mouth before he could control them. “Maybe I can bring you a coffee sometime. Since I know how you take it and all.”

  She turned over her shoulder in surprise. “Um, sure, if you want. I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever turned down Java Jones in my life. But that would be pretty cool of you.”

  “I do want to.” He surprised himself by how much he meant that. “I mean, I told you when we met that next time your coffee would be on me, didn’t I?”

  “I guess you did.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

  “It’s not every day that a pretty girl with bright pink hair changes my caffeine consumption forever.”

  Caroline ducked her head over her desk, but not before he saw the blush that stained her pale cheeks. “Well, I was only doing a public service.”

  “And one I’m grateful for.” Drew glanced at the clock and grimaced. He really needed to get back home if he was going to slog through his strategy presentation before midnight. “I better get my mom squared away and head out. But it was nice to meet you for real this time. Really nice.”

  “Same to you.” She gave him a cute little wave and another salute with her Java Jones cup. “See you around, hotshot.”

  “See you, Coffee Girl.”

  His mother was waiting in the doorway of her office, arms crossed and looking unreasonably smug.

  “I don’t even want to hear it!”

  Monica laughed, reaching past him to close her door. “I didn’t say a word. Now, let’s see those files.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Greg, where’s the latest draft of the press release for the acquisition announcement?”

  Greg minimized his solitaire game and looked up at Drew blankly. “What are you talking about?”

  He grit his teeth and resisted the urge to ask the man if he needed to use smaller words.

  “The press release for the Station 8 acquisition. It’s missing from the file system, along with the rest of the files, and in its place is your machine backup. Did you move the folder?”

  “Oh, yeah, I was having trouble getting on the backup server, so I just connected to whichever one I could get on. I was afraid I had a virus from some porn I accidentally opened, so I needed to back up my files.”

  Drew closed his eyes briefly and counted to ten. How this joker even had a job, surfing porn on company machines and playing solitaire instead of working, was beyond him. If it were in his power, he would have fired Greg a long time ago. “So where did you put the folder with the acquisition files?”

  Greg just shrugged. “I deleted it so I would have enough room, since I had like 30 gigs of files to back up. I mean, everybody has copies of everything on their own machines, right?”

  “You’re kidding me. You have to be kidding me, because there is no way you are actually that stupid.” The blood was rushing in Drew’s ears so loud he felt like he might pass out. “The file s
ystem is where we store everything. We don’t keep the main copies of any files on our desktops because it’s a security issue. So you effectively just deleted all the work that Macy and I have done on this acquisition from the beginning.”

  Greg met his eyes with a smirk and shrugged his shoulders again. “Deal with it, Bull. You’ll figure it out, and if not, well…maybe next time you won’t throw me under the bus just because you can’t keep your little piece of ass assistant in line.” He turned his back to Drew and started playing solitaire again like nothing had even happened.

  Drew turned on his heel and marched into Chad’s office, slamming the door. His boss looked up from his tablet, surprised.

  “Why the temper, Bull? Your assistant misfile something again?”

  “Cut the shit, Chad, and leave Macy alone. She’s the best worker I’ve got. The problem is Greg and you know it. He just deleted all the acquisition files from the system so that he would have room to back up his laptop. I was supposed to send those files to the president of Station 8 and their PR agency today.”

  Chad set his tablet down, looking marginally unhappy. He was a shit boss, but he cared enough about his own ass being in a sling that Drew knew he had at least a little leverage.

  “Don’t we have nightly backups of our file system?”

  Drew crossed his arms and nodded. “Yeah, but they’re offsite. I’ll have to get someone from IT to drive over to the backup facility, pull the right files down, load them on a drive, and bring them back here. We’ll miss the deadline by at least a few hours.”

  “I’ll call Station 8 myself and explain the situation,” Chad said. “Why don’t you go get the files yourself and cool off a little? I’m not sure I trust the IT department with something so confidential, anyway.”

  “What about Greg? He said he had a virus from porn and that’s why he had to backup—he could have infected the whole system! Chad, I know he’s your drinking buddy and everything, but he’s got to go. He never works, and he is insubordinate even to you. If that’s the kind of team you want, you’re not going to have me around for much longer.”